EVIE
I want your midnights
For all their shared attempts at communication to build a solid foundation for wherever their relationship would take them, it seems both can’t resist juvenile teasing and vague implications that paint them to be reluctantly endeared to one another. Evie delights in it regardless of the ridiculousness. It follows her to the table, and spills out like a wash of color in a startled laugh as Deimos hooks his foot around her chair and pulls her effortlessly closer. She turns slightly to press their knees together, leaning an ankle against the back of his heel in companionable closeness. He radiates warmth that she can feel through her leggings, an enviable trait that most men seem to share. Or perhaps her fondness is simply electrifying her nerves, making them finely attuned to the areas where his body touches hers. It’s a lucky thing that the food is so good and sufficiently distracting. “In another life maybe we were chefs,” she snorts inelegantly before taking her next bite, envisioning Deimos in a tall, perfectly starched white hat. It’s a bittersweet pastime, envisioning where life may have led them if the world had granted them more peaceful paths. She wouldn’t give up her own story for anything, but wherever that Evie and Deimos are, she hopes they found each other regardless.
